J. C. PETERSON

Being Mary Bennet

Ashton Reed

“Whenever I'd watch that movie, I'd think that if Mary stopped trying so damn hard to achieve, like, this sister-obliterating greatness, she'd realize she was happier with goodness."

"I like it. To Bark Books, then, Anne Girl." I take his hand and shake it, my heart a puff of cloud in my chest. "To Bark Books."

So I say the next thing that pops into my mind. "Lia Lawson called me a bitch the other night." 

Oddly, Lindy grins. It's cockeyed and full of mischief. "Did you earn it?" 

My mouth flops open like a dying fish. Lindy shrugs. “There's nothing quite as satisfying as earning a ‘bitch.' I usually take it to mean I'm doing something right."

I've wasted years being jealous of my sisters - for their beauty or wit or bawdiness or friends. I've spent weeks convincing myself Lindy fit neatly into the Lizzy archetype, someone for whom only good things happen, whether they were deserved or not. But that's not right. It probably never was. Lindy has hidden triumphs and sorrows that would never make it to the page. We all do. Something aches within me-I'm desperate to know my sisters.

Then before I can talk myself out of it, I lean close and kiss her forehead. “I love you, Lindy.”

She grabs my fingers and squeezes. “I love you too, sis.”

The sea separating our lives has calmed, and it's clear enough that I can see the bottonm. I could walk across to Lindy if I tried. The realization soothes something in me I never quite knew needed balm.

"Bullshit. You are not Mary Bennet, Marnie. And even if you were, that doesn't make you any less a protagonist in your own life." Lindy jabs a finger at the novel's cover. "Every person is the main character in their own story, even the women stuffed in the attics."

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